


A Slice of Heaven

by whatsubtext



Category: Anthropomorfic
Genre: F/F, Other, Pizza
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 10:58:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1093069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatsubtext/pseuds/whatsubtext
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Suddenly, into the midst of traditional pizza, a vegan pizza appears. It's super effective!</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Slice of Heaven

**Author's Note:**

  * For [angharad_crewe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angharad_crewe/gifts).



QuikkySlice was not a classy joint, but it was awfully convenient to home. Walt genuinely enjoyed cooking, always had, and QuikkySlice’s fare was untaxing and simple. It’d been simpler before he got there, though-- they’d hired Walt just looking for a chef who could do vegetarian pizza, and that one had gone so well he’d been able to do more than just mix it up with a little ricotta on their cheese pizza. After a few months, he’d finally convinced them to let him start making an actual vegan pizza too, and word was spreading like sauce on stretched dough. Davison, the manager who never smiled, was actually making noises about a raise. Things were looking bright. 

*******  
She was strange and gorgeous. Her differences made Cheese quiver right down to her ricotta, uneasily aware of this new layer of complexity in the Eater strata. Fresh faces were flocking to the glass, and they all wanted HER.

Hawaiian was a little jealous at first, Cheese could tell. Hawaiian was used to being the exotic option, familiar yet daring with her ham and pineapple pairing; this new arrival was another creature altogether, untouched by animalia save for the chef. 

The Eaters converged, mouths and stomachs ready, and they looked at Vegan FIRST. Their eyes lingered on her roasted garlic, her caramelized onion, her crisp rainbow of bell peppers, her fresh mushrooms and pesto underpinnings. Her guaranteed cruelty-free crust, no hint of buffalo mozzarella shredlets touching it anywhere. Cheese wanted to touch it with hers, and felt obscurely guilty, knowing that Vegan’s pristine isolation was her selling point. Vegan stayed on her own shelf, raised above them all, and they could only whisper to her and wonder what her cheese was made of-- all except Cheese, who was too shy to join the lively conversation her little sister Pepperoni struck up. (Nearly everyone liked Pepperoni-- she had always been popular, and by far the more outgoing of the two. Cheese’s own appeal was wide, but of a quieter nature; people tended to take her for granted, and she tended to let them.)

One thing quickly became apparent despite Vegan’s curiosity appeal, though; Hawaiian wasn’t losing Eaters to her. They looked at Vegan first, and then they ordered whatever they always did. It was only the new Eaters and some of Cheese’s fans who said the magic words to bring one of the Attendants over with a Holy Instrument and preside over the lifting of a slice into a new bed, destined for greatness and the gnashing of Eater teeth. 

After the chanting subsided as they all bid the last slice of the lunch rush farewell, Cheese finally gathered her remaining slices around her to bolster her courage and spoke directly to Vegan. “O noble one, why do you chant the glorious chant with us even when it is not one of your own slices sent forth?” 

Vegan sounded softly surprised. “We’re all pizza, Cheese… why wouldn’t I?”

Cheese considered that for awhile, very seriously. As a philosophical issue, it was fairly weighty for her. At last, she said “I suppose, O fairest of pepper-maidens, that I expected you to be in a class above us due to your lofty physical situation on a higher shelf, and the immutable fact that we share very few ingredients, you and I. Thus it was that I did not expect you to share my customs as my sisters Hawaiian and Pepperoni do.”

“That’s kind of silly,” Vegan told her firmly. “I’d be hurt by that assumption if I hadn’t been listening to you talk to the others and knew you’re not a jerk about things, just flowery.”

“I am no more floury than you are, I think?” Cheese replied in mild confusion, uncertain whether to feel reassured, floury, or like a jerk. 

Vegan giggled softly. “I like you,” the highest-shelf pizza told Cheese.

“Oh… well… GOSH,” said Cheese, and from then on they started talking more. A lot more. In fact, they talked more to each other than to all the other pizzas combined. 

It got, in fact, to be kind of a thing. Until one night...

*******

“I fucking swear, Walt, the treehuggers won’t stand for this. We’ll lose customers. We HIRED you to make the treehuggers happy, I thought you WERE one, for fuck’s safe. You’re supposed to know what you people like! Put them on different fucking SHELVES, for fuck’s sake. DIFFERENT SHELVES. Different shelves! How hard the fuck is that, Walt?”

Davison glared at him for fifteen solid seconds in threatening silence, little blue eyes bulging slightly over a quivering salt-and-pepper mustache, then stomped off.

Walt stared at the warming shelves where the vegan and cheese pizzas sat next to each other, TOUCHING-- practically cuddling-- and wanted to cry. He KNEW he’d put them in the right places, but none of the other staff would admit to moving anything around-- in fact, everyone had looked equally insulted and offended at the accusation. Maybe they were all in on it. Maybe the asshole manager was doing it because he hated vegans and wanted to drive his vegetarian chef off like the posturing Neanderthal Davison was. Maybe it was time to just make the change to Gregorio’s. It was more of a commute, but now he had a following, and the pay was better...

*******

They woke beside one another as they had fallen asleep, but something was different; they had their own silver pedestals, and the counter was solid marble. Hawaiian and Pepperoni weren’t out of their drowsy oven sleep yet; Cheese dismissed such mundane concerns as mere locational curiosity and gazed over at Vegan with schmoop first and foremost in her thoughts. “My darling, we lie upon silver and marble, but I can think only of your gentle cruelty-free crust. How was your rest?”

Vegan yawned and stretched like a pizza-cat, which is to say not very much at all. An Eater would not have noticed. “We are in a different place, aren’t we? The decor is classy, the setting more intimate. But however we’ve traveled, I still feel… sated.”

“Not tainted, my doughy dove? For I could never bear to rest warmly beside you knowing that you felt the sting of buffalo juice upon your chewy center.”

“Definitely not tainted,” Vegan assured her. “Mingled, yes. Commingled, even. Ehehehehee.” She tittered shyly at the way the word sounded; Cheese gleamed with fresh buffalo-mozzarella oil under the salamander and hoped it would not deter an Eater, for she was not greasy. Merely-- nay, gloriously-- moist and tender with love. 

“The way you’re talking,” Cheese murmured. “It feels as though I’ve rubbed off on you, O gem of organic tomato rubies.”

“You COULD,” Vegan suggested brightly. “See, the important thing here is consent. I’m feeling really consenting. Enthusiastic, actually. Especially if we use the fresh, clean paper hanging over the edges of these things as a barrier to protect the Eaters again.”

Cheese gasped coquettishly. “You… before the lunch crowd, O bastion of vegetable joy? Truly? I could slide silkily against your crisp green peppers and treat your caramelized onion with such delicate care that it would maintain its shape despite our passion?”

“My garlic is crushed anyway,” Vegan said a trifle impatiently. “Hurry, squishy-boo. I think if we rock these stands just right we can both commingle more than once before it’s time to look proper again. Get on it, hot stuff.”

So they did.


End file.
